


A Job Well Done

by LawrenceKinden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Girl - Freeform, School, Spanking, boy - Freeform, hug, husband, spank, student, teacher, wooden spatula
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9945800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrenceKinden/pseuds/LawrenceKinden
Summary: Mrs. L knows what they need, she just doesn't know how to give it to them. [Story Contains Spanking]





	

Five minutes after the last bell, Mrs. L sank onto the ancient couch in the teacher's lounge, exhausted, drained, defeated. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back and tried to will away the headache she felt encroaching.

It was her third year at Blue Mountain High. She'd had difficult classes before, but her seventh hour this year was a step and a half beyond. There were the catty girls and the poser boys and three in particular who lived to make trouble, to disrupt her classroom, to make her work life hellish.

"They either weren't spanked enough or weren't hugged enough or probably both," she said to no one in particular.

"You're probably right," said Mrs. J.

Mrs. L snapped her eyes open and sat up straight. Mrs. J was a thirty year veteran of Blue Mountain High. Nothing phased her. She took on the biggest classes, the hardest students, the most preps. She didn't take shit from anybody and nobody dared test her. At least, not more than once. She had been selected teacher of the year by the Blue Mountain High senior class six of the last ten years. The wall by her desk was covered with student photos and letters, and she never wrote a discipline referral.

Mrs. L put a hand over her mouth and looked around, certain she'd blabbed her thoughts to half the staff, but it was just them in the lounge. Mrs. J sat in the old wing-back chair across from her.

"It's all right," said Mrs. J. "We've all had those days, those classes, those kids."

"Just so you know," said Mrs. L, "I would never actually hit a kid. At least, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't."

Mrs. J laughed. "I would never discount the effectiveness of a good spanking at the right time, or for that matter, a good hug."

"You're not actually suggesting I... I mean half the boys here are twice as big as me."

"Of course not. Spanking students it strongly discouraged in this school district. For that matter, hugging a student isn't exactly encouraged."

"It's just that this group, it's like they don't want to be helped. I can't teach them if they don't want to be taught."

"You're absolutely right," said Mrs. J.

"I actually stormed out today," said Mrs. L. "I threw my notes in the air and left the room. I was gone for five full minutes, pacing up and down the halls, before I could go back in. And they were all very contrite afterward. They apologized. Johnathan Kitter even said he thinks I'm one of the best teachers he's ever had, the little shit. He's the one who every third word out of his mouth is 'fuck' and who threw little balls of paper at Mia until she smacked him upside the head and had this big diatribe, just loving all the attention. And then Sophie..."

"I know," said Mrs. J. "I've been there."

"But they're so good for you. What do you do that I don't?"

Mrs. J smiled "I spank them and I hug them."

Mrs. L laughed. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Well, maybe just in my head. Here, I've got something for you."

Mrs. J wore a silver charm bracelet. Mrs. L had noticed it before but didn't think much of it. Mrs. J unsnapped it and handed it to her.

"I can't take that," said Mrs. L.

"You know, this is my thirtieth year. I'm retiring this summer."

Mrs. L forgot the bracelet. She searched Mrs. J's face for a hit of smile, the suggestion of a joke, but found none.

"You can't retire, we need you."

Mrs. J laughed. "I can and I will. I assure you, you'll be fine without me. This," she jangled the little silver bracelet with its single heart-shaped charm clinking off the flat links. "This was given to me by Trent Miller, head of the Social Studies department my first year here. He said I would know what to do with it and when to pass it on, and he was right."

"You're being cryptic," said Mrs. L.

Mrs. J nodded. "The privilege of age. Now take the damn bracelet."

Mrs. L did as she was told and snapped it around her left wrist.

"Pleasant dreams. Tomorrow's another day," said Mrs. J.

Mrs. L drove home to her small, one bedroom apartment on Mesa Street, only a few blocks from the school. She ordered some pizza and worked on lesson plans for next week and graded papers for a couple hours with the news on in the background. By the time she was half done with her stack of papers, it was nine o'clock and she wasn't particularly interested in staying up until midnight, so she took a shower and turned in early.

~*~

She sat at the park, her son, Johnny, was on the playground with other neighborhood kids, running and shouting and cavorting. She was glad he was behaving himself. He'd taken a turn for the tantrums lately and she wasn't sure what to do with him. She wanted him to feel like he could express when he was unhappy, but he was taking it too far: fighting with his sister, talking back, even throwing a cup across the kitchen last night.

She wondered if he was testing her, seeing how much of a brat he could be before she put a stop to it.

Of course that's what he's doing, Mrs. L thought.

But it wasn't her thought. Or was it? It was tough to say.

"No, Johnny, don't do that," she heard herself say.

One of the neighbor kids had brought a soccer ball to the park. She'd seen him and a couple other kids kicking it around. But now Johnny, her son, had taken the ball from the other boy and was running with it, laughing, keeping it from the other boy's reach. Johnny was taller, faster, and stronger than most of his peers and he used that to his advantage.

"Johnathan, I said no!" Mrs. L snapped.

There was steel to her voice Johnny hadn't heard from her before. He stopped and looked at her. 

"Give him his ball back, please," she said.

Johnny pouted. "No. I want it."

Well, that's enough of that.

She marched to him, took the ball and gave it to the other boy. "You should apologize."

Johnny crossed his arms and turned away from the other boy.

"If that's the way you want it," Mrs. L said. She took Johnny by his arm and marched him across the park and down the street to their house. She took him to his room where she sat on his bed.

"I'm very disappointed with your behavior," she said. "I expect better and you know it." Then she did something she'd never done before. She could hardly believe she was doing it. She pulled Johnny over her lap and smacked his bottom, five times, not hard but firm enough to make sure he felt it though his jeans. He caterwauled, of course, making a fuss grand enough to break her heart, but she held firm, telling him to stand in the corner for ten minutes.

Ten minutes later, she came back into his room. Johnny was sitting on the floor in the corner, thinking.

"Are you ready to behave yourself?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, mommy. I know I was bad."

She shook her head. "It's not that you're bad, it's that you need to learn to mind me, to respect others, and to behave yourself.

Though he'd wailed when she'd smacked his bottom, now he cried for real and she hugged him. And though it hadn't felt good to spank him, it had felt right.

~*~

In the nature of such things, the scene shifted. Now she stood in a kitchen with an eleven-year-old Mia Morales dressed in her pajamas. She was breathing hard, cheeks flushed, anger radiating from her as it radiated from her daughter. Mia had been caught smoking at school, and she'd just lost it. She'd been screaming for half an hour and Mia had screamed back. She was ready to paddle the girl's bottom with a spatula.

But wait, Mrs. L thought. I'm not quite sure...

No. She was going to do it. She reached for the kitchen drawer, fully prepared to bare Mia's bottom and spank it as hard as she could.

Hang on a second. Take a breath

She saw Mia flinch as she reached for the drawer, and that gave her pause. Instead, she put her hand flat on the counter.

"Mia..."

"I know, I know, I'm such a fuck up."

"No. I mean I'm disappointed, but I want you to know that even though I'm mad, and you're mad, you can talk to me about things. You can trust me to not fly off the handle at every little thing."

"Really? Because that's not what it's usually like."

"You're right," Mrs. L said. "I need to do better, but I can't do it on my own.

Mia's lower lip began to tremble. She crossed her arms firmly. "So, you gonna spank me or what?"

"No," said Mrs. L firmly. "Not this time. But, I need you to reign in your behavior. I mean, smoking? Really?"

Mia shrugged. "It wasn't even that good. It made me cough."

Mrs. L gave a sigh of relief. "Good. It's a terrible habit."

"Are we done fighting?" Mia asked.

"I'm done if you are."

Mia sniffled. A few tears spilled down her cheeks. Then, in a small voice that brought a lump to Mrs. L's throat, she said, "Mom? Could I maybe have a hug?"

She opened her arms and Mia ran to her.

~*~

She blinked rapidly and the scene shifted again.

She stood in the living room, glaring at her husband, exasperated. "You spoil that girl. She needs to learn right from wrong and you aren't helping every time you undercut me. I told her she's grounded for two weeks and then you told her she could go out with friends tonight."

"Well, sweetie," said her husband, "she made these plans a few days ago."

"I don't care! We are unmaking the plans, you and I. We're the parents, we make the rules. Our little girl got caught trying to steal clothes at the mall, just a week after she got caught trying to steal a pair of shoes, which was only a couple of days after she got caught trying to sneak into an R rated movie. We've got to set boundaries. She walks all over us, over you! And you let her!"

"Well, it can't hurt for her to go out just tonight."

"Yes it can. You are going to go in there and tell her she's grounded for three weeks."

"I thought you said two."

"Well now it's three. And I don't care if she pouts at you or cries or stamps her feet or throws a tantrum, she is grounded.

Mrs. L wasn't sure what she was doing here. It seemed to her that Sophie Velder's mom had things well in hand.

"I don't think I can do that," he said. "Maybe you should..."

"No. I already did and you undercut me. Take care of it. Now."

"Sweetie, come on..."

Mrs. L had had enough. She grabbed the husband by his upper arm and led him to the kitchen. "Maybe Sophie's problem is that she's got a father who doesn't know when to say 'no'."

Whereas she'd resisted the urge to spank Mia with a spatula, now she planted the idea in Sophie's mother's head.

"Hey now, what are you doing?" he said.

Mrs. L opened the drawer where she knew the kitchen utensils were and grabbed the broad, wooden spatula conveniently on top. She twisted the husband's arm up behind his back, allowing her to push him down over the counter.

"Now hang on a moment," he said.

She smacked the spatula against his backside. Even against his slacks, she could tell she'd stung him. He yelped and she smacked his backside again and again until he jerked out of her grip and away, cheeks flush.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said, voice small, rubbing at his bottom like a contrite little boy.

She pointed her spatula again. "You're going to go in there tell her she's grounded for three weeks. You're going to tell her that if she pulls a stunt like this again, she's going to get a spanking."

"I'm pretty sure thirteen is too old for a spanking..."

"Oh yeah? Is thirty-two? Because I'm pretty sure you just got your bottom smacked, mister."

His cheeks turned bright red.

"Our little girl is headed down the wrong path. We need to make a change, and we need to make it now. Right now. Do I make myself clear?" Mrs. L said.

It took him a few moments, but he swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. L felt herself drift from the dream to the easy deep sleep of a job well done.


End file.
